


Out of Darkness

by seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Language, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Protective Peter Parker, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, don't worry Peter's going to be fine....eventually, why can't I stop hurting this boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: WARNING: FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS“I need to do something.""You don’t have to take this. Peter. If you run, it'll make everyone think he's right.""I'm not running."She stops, Peter taking in her shocked face. "Peter, what are you thinking?"Peter looks into her eyes. He bites his lip.“Do you trust me?”





	1. Time to Run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief panic attack in this chapter - mind the tags, Peter will be okay!

“His name is Peter Parker.”

Peter watches in horror as his picture flashes across the screen. He raises his hands to his head, the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What the FUCK.”

His throat feels like it’s closing, the panic sinking in. Peter glances at Michelle, watches as her eyes widen. 

In seconds, Peter feels he’s aged a decade.

* * *

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Peter is panicking, scrambling for what to do. He hasn’t moved, can’t even breathe. He’s only brought out of it from someone pointing at him out of the corner of his eye. He turns to the crowd around him, takes it in.

It’s New York. Times Square. No one gives a fuck about the news, even if Peter feels as if his world is about to be swallowed whole. And yet. 

He’s almost surprised that the panic he’s feeling, the anxiety crawling all over his skin isn’t manifesting into people mobbing him.

People are staring, phones out as the news story plays on. Someone points to him, a couple of others. Peter can hear the whispers, sees that some people just keep walking. 

But the ones who don’t, just stop. Stare. 

Peter is panicking. 

He turns back to Michelle, the panic he’s feeling mirrored in her frozen stare. She blinks then takes a deep breath. Peter watches as she mouths the words he needed to hear, almost as if he was asking for permission. 

_Go._

He hesitates. Then sees the pleading in Michelle’s eyes. He can’t leave her here. Most of New York doesn’t even seem to care that Peter’s world is crumbling but someone had to have seen her. 

Someone had to have seen them, swinging around the city he loves. The city he feels is about to implode around him. Is anyone staring at her? Peter can’t even think, can only focus on Michelle - staring right back at him. 

_I’m an idiot. What the hell was I thinking?_

Peter regrets his idiotic idea for a date, thinking Michelle would be impressed or enjoy swinging around the city. She hadn’t - clearly - but now, he’d inadvertently put her in danger. 

Just put another target on her back.

Before he can say anything to her - only seconds have passed in the lifetime of Peter’s thoughts - he sees how her eyes harden, the fire behind them burning bright. 

_GO._

Peter sends a hand out.

And desperately tries to swing out of sight. 

* * *

_May. I gotta get to May. May. May._

Peter’s stomach churns at the idea of leaving Michelle there. He left her. Left her in the middle of Times fucking Square. 

She told him to go. A small part of Peter reasoned that she knew what she was doing, that Michelle could take care of herself.

But Peter’s senses are ringing, the feeling of anxiety and panic crashing down on him. 

_His name is Peter Parker._

_His name is Peter Parker._

_His name is Peter Parker._

Beck’s words taunt him. His stupid yearbook picture keeps flashing in his mind. 

Peter almost misses a swing, cursing the man who even in death - was destroying his world once again. 

The not too distant memory of Mysterio’s illusions in Berlin flash through Peter’s mind as he frantically swings home. He can’t afford a mistake right now, can’t afford to get lost.

But the world knows who he is. They know who he is.

_They know my name._

He has to get to May.

_I left Michelle._

* * *

“May! MAY!?” Peter yells, the panic swelling as he arrives back to his apartment and rushes through the door.

He should be more careful. Peter knows this, knows nothing good can come from this proclamation.

No one had stopped him, none of his neighbors had even given him a second glance as he rushed up the stairs. 

But he’s panicking, his heart feeling like it’s going to jump out of his chest. 

He puts a hand to the wall, gasping as he tries to brace himself. 

_He tried to kill me. His name is Peter Parker._

A part of Peter registers that he’s experiencing a panic attack, that the pressure he feels in his chest, the pounding headache and the feeling as if he doesn’t breathe he’s going to burst, all signify that his lungs need air, that his body is going into almost a state of shock.

But Peter can’t focus on that right now.

Beck had lied to him. Tried to kill him. MJ. Ned. 

Beck was dead. But Peter was still paying for his mistake. He never should’ve trusted him. Never should’ve let his guard down.

Beck was dead. 

But now he’d framed Peter for _murder._

He can’t find May. He left Michelle.

_He left Michelle._

Peter gasps, sinking down to the floor, on his knees as he rips his mask off and tries to breathe. 

It’s like he’s been hit by a train, an analogy he’s all too familiar with. He feels the walls closing in him, gasping and shaking.

_Breathe, Peter. Breathe. Breathe._

He blinks, holding on to the cold ground beneath him as if it’s the only thing he knows is real. 

_Is this real? This can’t be real. Where’s May? I left Michelle. His name is Peter Parker._

Peter’s thoughts torment him, over and over until he feels like he’s going to pass out. 

_BREATHE._

He wheezes, tries to regain control of himself. 

Peter is not sure how long he’s stuck there, frozen in place on the floor. But as the world starts to fall back into place, as his palms shake as he grips the floor, Peter thinks. 

_Breathe Peter. What do you do? What do you do? What do you do?_

He gulps down the air his lungs hadn’t found before, focuses on the ground beneath him as he thinks. Slowly he can feel the anxiety start to roll off him, the panic starting to subside. 

He can fix this. Peter can fix this.

He just has to think. 

* * *

“May, I have to go.”

“Peter, you are not going anywhere. What the hell do yo--”

“They know who I am, May! We can’t, I can’t do this.” 

“We’re going to figure this out, Peter.” She puts a hand out to him, stabling him. Happy paces while he’s on the phone, Peter hearing Pepper through the line. 

“Peter, if you think for one second I’m going to let you just _take off_ , then--”

“I’m not going to run, May. I can’t… I can’t run.” He grabs her hands, eyes staring right back into hers.

May and Happy had gone out for lunch as soon as Peter left, just a quick bite until they’d overheard some conversations about the news that Spider-Man was some kid named Peter Parker.

They’d rushed back to May’s place immediately, finding Peter packing his bags. 

“If you’re not running, then what are you--” 

“I need to do something, May.”

“We’re handling it, Peter.” Happy puts a hand to his phone, eyes firm. “Pepper’s already got an injunction filed against Jameson. They can’t do this to you. You’re a fucking minor.”

“Happy.” May half-heartedly scolds him, but Peter’s shaking his head. 

“No, no don’t do that. Tell Pepper to call it off.” He turns back to May, takes in her shocked face. 

“Peter, what are you thinking?” 

He bites his lip. 

“Do you trust me?”

* * *

He lands on the roof, Michelle already waiting for him. 

Peter regrets leaving her when he did, regretted it the minute he did. But seeing her there - healthy, _whole_ \- Peter knew he did the right thing. 

That he was doing the right thing. 

“Peter, what the hell are you doing?” 

He rushes forward, arms enclosed around her before she can say anything else. She returns the embrace, Peter closing his eyes as he thinks back to the bridge. 

Had it really been less than 24 hours? Less than a day? 

Peter had had some really shitty days in his life, and yet this one - the best and the worst simultaneously - all seemed to evaporate in Michelle’s arms. 

“Peter.” Michelle whispers, Peter bringing himself out her arms. 

“MJ, I’m sorry.”

“I told you to go. You had to leave, I didn’t know if anyone was going to--”

“Did anyone follow you? I saw the cameras, I thought--”

“No one even paid attention, I slipped away, I just--”

“Michelle, I have to go.”

She stops, almost takes a step back.

“You what?”

Peter swallows down the anxiety building in his throat, sets his jaw firm as his head nods. 

“I have to go.” 

She shakes her head, blinks a few times. 

“The hell you do, Parker.” 

“MJ, I--”

“No. NO. You don’t have to take this. Peter, half the people in the world already think Jameson is just an asshole with a blog. If you run, it’ll make everyone think he’s right.”

“He _is_ right.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Peter. You can’t run.”

“I’m not running, Michelle.” She stops, a look of confusion on her face. 

“Then… what are you going to do?” 

Peter’s jaw is set, firm as his eyes bore into hers. 

“I’m going to fix this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Do not start another WIP. Do not start another WIP. Do not start another WIP.
> 
> Also me: BUT DID YOU SEE FAR FROM HOME I HAVE TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
> 
> Lost an argument with myself so here we are. I love it when people yell at me in the comments!


	2. Ends of the Earth.

_“And we’re back with another shocking development into the case of New York’s own Spider-Man. After the stunning revelation earlier today that Queen’s Spider-Man was actually sixteen-year-old Midtown student Peter Parker by DailyBugle.net owner J. Jonah Jameson, our sources have uncovered that Peter Parker was one of those affected by the Blip and that he was, in fact, a former intern of the late Tony Stark._

_While it’s unclear if there is any truth to Jameson’s claim, we’re hearing reports that a lawsuit has been filed on behalf of Stark Industries for defamation and for endangering of a minor. Skeptics have claimed that it seems unlikely that a sixteen-year-old could truly be responsible to act as the Spider-Man while others have argued that this recent development is not any less unlikely than the Blip. Regardless, Stark Industries and the DailyBugle.net have both declined to comment for this story. As always, we will keep you updated as soon as information becomes available._

_In other news…”_

Peter turns away from the television, shoving his hands into his hoodie as he walks away. 

No one had recognized him. No one was looking for him. 

Yet. 

But as he walks down the street, head down even if his pace is steady - Peter knows in his heart that he’s doing the right thing. 

Even if no one else seemed to agree with him. 

* * *

May had yelled at him, forbade him from leaving the apartment. 

“Are you out of your mind? Absolutely NOT Peter.” She’d yelled, Happy right there with her - the man’s face turning the deepest shade of red. 

“I’m not running, May. I have to do this.” Peter ground his teeth, resolve firm. 

“Like hell you are. Peter, why the fu--”

“Happy, don’t.” Peter can see the man’s lips twist in fury, anger radiating off of him and May. 

“I have to do this. You said you trusted me.”

May threw her hands up, exasperated.

“Yes, Peter. I trust you. Of course I trust you.”

“Trust you not to be a damn idiot. What the hell are you thinking, Peter?” Happy interjects, May whirling around.

“Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Someone’s gotta get it through his thick skull,” Happy yells, pointing toward Peter. “This isn’t going to solve shit.”

“I think that this is something we need to _discuss_. And I don’t appreciate you taking that tone with him.” May’s own voice is even but the crackle of anger in the air is unmistakable. 

The three of them are silent for a moment before May takes a shaky breath and sighs. 

She turns to Peter.

“Can you give us a minute, Pete?” May brings a finger up, pointing right in Peter’s face.

“Don’t you dare run off. You hear me? Just… give me and Happy a minute.” May’s hands are shaking as Peter’s eyes dance between the two of them. 

He turns to the hallway, passing Happy as he goes, the man still furious and fuming. Peter’s not even in their hallway when their voices start to whisper, bickering back and forth.

As soon as he’s in his room, he shuts the door and quietly locks it. 

He almost feels bad for lying to May. 

But then, Peter reasons, he never agreed to what she asked. 

He lifts up his bedroom window and swings out of sight. 

* * *

He’d only wanted to say goodbye to Michelle, to let her know what he was planning. 

Peter should’ve expected she would be just as outraged as May and Happy had been.

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Peter?”

“MJ, just--”

“No. No. No. You hit your head or something on the way over here? Because that has to be the only reason you could think that a DUMBASS idea like this would actually work.” 

“MJ, I’m not running from this. I can’t--I _can’t_ run from this.” He takes a step back, Michelle’s hands clenched into fists. 

“I’m not saying you have to _run_ , but Peter… God, are you serious right now? You think turning yourself in is the way to fucking fix this this? Did you not just hear me when I said that half of the city thinks Jameson is off his rocker anyway?”

Michelle is yelling, but Peter doesn’t care if anyone overhears. They’re on the roof. No one is paying attention. _Besides_ , Peter reasoned, _it would all be over soon anyway_. 

“It _will_ fix it. Look, you said it yourself. Not everyone believes Jameson okay? I know that, I’m not an idiot.” He shakes his head as he tries to focus, the panic he’d staved off still threatening to overtake him. 

Peter takes a deep breath as he continues. 

“But there are people who do and MJ…” Peter grabs hold of one of her hands, her fists immediately unfurling as he places another hand to her cheek. 

“Michelle, there are dangerous people out there. Really dangerous. Beck just tried to _kill_ you because of me.” 

She shakes her head, opens her mouth to say something but Peter presses forward. 

“I won’t allow that to happen. I won’t put you in danger, alright? Not again. Not ever again. Running won’t solve anything.” Peter’s eyes lock with Michelle’s, willing her to understand. 

“But if I turn myself in, then maybe… maybe I can stop this. The police might not even believe me, okay? But if I do this--”

“If you do this, then what Peter? _What?_ ” Michelle breaks out of his hold and cups them to his face. 

Peter can see the fear and the anger in her eyes. 

“What if they arrest you? Hide you off in some fucking black ops location somewhere? You don’t get it Peter, they could make you disappear. Experiment on you and then what?”

She bites her lip, chin trembling. 

“I’d never see you again. You can’t do this..”

Peter closes his eyes and leans in, the kiss shocking Michelle. 

It was their fourth kiss. Might even be their last. 

_God, I hope not_. Peter thinks to himself as he breaks apart, eyes firm on Michelle’s one last time. 

“It’s the only way, Michelle. Trust me. Please, just trust me.”

“Peter--” 

Before he can let himself be convinced, let his mind be changed, Peter turns and swings off the roof. 

* * *

It had been a few hours since then, Peter blending in with New York. 

His phone had run nonstop until he turned it off, ditched it in an alley.. 

A dark part of Peter wondered if his days hiding things behind dumpsters were over, if he really was being the colossal idiot everyone seemed to think he was being. 

But this had to work. Peter was taking a gamble, a calculated one. 

No one would believe that a sixteen-year-old was actually Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t stupid, he already knew the Daily Bugle’s reputation. They’d dismiss him, tell him to go home. 

He knew that there was a chance that they would believe him. A long-running fear that he’d be subject to some kind of government testing, stuck in a lab for the rest of his life. 

But Peter couldn’t see another way out of it. He couldn’t run. He _wouldn’t_ run, not anymore.

His entire European trip had confirmed for himself that no matter what - even if it hurt like hell - he couldn’t run away from his responsibility. 

And this - protecting May, Michelle, and anyone else that he loved - was his greatest one. 

Peter would turn himself in, let the cops decide to handle it. Putting his faith in New York like they’d put their trust in him.

As he walks towards the station, firm in the knowledge that this was the right thing for him - the right thing to do - he wonders what Tony would say.

Peter's convinced he already knows.

* * *

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter watched as Tony gave a deep sigh, hand to his face. 

“Yeah kid?” 

“I’m sorry.”

Tony’s head snapped up, a look of confusion.

“Sorry for what, Pete? Disobeying a direct order? Stowing away on an alien spaceship? Single-handedly giving me gray hair one dumbass move at a time?” 

His tone is one of exasperation, but Peter can see that Tony is less annoyed and more… worried. 

The fight in the park had been quick, Peter hadn’t really given much thought to what had happened before he found himself flailing - caught in the atmosphere as the flying saucer looking thing took him off the planet. 

It’d been a split second decision, a need to help Tony as much as he could. 

The wizard - Doctor Strange, he’d said - was off sulking in some corner, Tony uncharacteristically quiet in another. 

While Peter wasn’t sure what exactly they were heading into, he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear facing it if Tony was disappointed. 

“All of it?” Peter offers, watching as Tony’s expression changes from one of worry to resignation. 

“Well, you’re here now, kid. Can’t exactly call you an Uber back to earth from here.” 

“I thought you didn’t like Uber.”

“I don’t. Why you insist on utilizing some half-assed, scandal ridden company that’s about three months away from bankruptcy at any given moment for your late night escapades is ridiculous. You know you can call Happy.”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t want to bother him, Mr. Stark. Plus, it gives the whole ‘Queens hero’ vibe more realism.” 

Tony just gave him a look, shaking his hand before he continues. 

“Realism flew out the window when you hitched a ride with us, kid.” 

Peter ignores the jab, knowing Tony’s only trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation. He sits down to the man, watching as Tony’s hands form an almost praying gesture. 

“I just wanted to help, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighs once again, puts a hand down as he looks to Peter. He places a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it firm and oddly comforting to Peter. 

“That's not it, Pete. I just...” Tony trails off for a second, eyes elsewhere. Peter waits.

Tony seems to wrestle with himself for a few seconds before another look of resignation passes over his face. 

“Just want you to be safe, kid.”

Peter nods, a half-smile. 

“Always safe with you, Mr. Stark.” That gets a laugh out of Tony, like Peter expected it would. 

“Hah. Yeah, I try. Though you better believe that the minute we get back, you’re the one who has to tell aunt hottie that it was your idea to ride along the creepy alien ship alright?” 

Peter laughed in return, shaking his head. 

“She’ll understand, Mr. Stark. She gets it, you know?” Peter smiles, thinking of the awkward conversation - conversations, if Peter was being honest - after she’d found him the suit. 

May had not been happy. Not just with Peter putting himself in danger, flinging himself into the thick of things sight unseen. 

It was the thought that he hadn’t told her. Hadn’t trusted that she could handle it. 

It’d been a little over two years since Ben died, but Peter still believed he had a duty to take care of her. 

It was his responsibility. 

“Yeah, kid. I’m sure she _gets_ it but, come on. There’s a difference between your penchant for self-sacrifice and being smart.” Tony removes his hand from Peter’s shoulder, leaning forward to stand. He paces for a bit before continuing. 

“I get it. You’re all about the responsibility and protecting the little guy. I love that about you, kid.” Peter perks up at the statement, seemingly understanding what Tony was saying without verbalizing it. 

Tony runs a hand through his hair once more, oblivious to the magnitude of his words on Peter. 

“But you gotta be more careful, kid. You gotta trust that the people we have in place to take care of this shit can actually handle it.” Tony looks back to him, Peter watching as he tries to find the words to express what’s on his mind. 

“The system’s shit sometimes. I get it. The Accords…” Tony waves his hands around. “Were a damn mess. But the idea of them, the purpose… it wasn’t all bullshit.” 

Tony sighs once more. 

“Everything’s built on trust alright? Trust in people. Trust in others. And look, I know I’m probably the last person on the planet to lecture you about _trusting_ people or government or what have you.” 

Tony looks into Peter’s eyes, a look that Peter would remember for years to come.

“But _you_ , kid? You’re the most trustworthy person I know. Don’t tell Rhodey.” 

Tony lets out a small laugh as Peter smiles. 

“Current situation notwithstanding, you’ve got a lot going for you kid. You make good choices.” 

Peter just waits, watching Tony. 

“You gotta trust the system sometimes, kid. Know when it’s time to jump in and when it’s time to tap out. You’re in it now, we’re hurtling off God knows where in this glorified donut…” Tony rolls his eyes. 

“But next time shit hits the fan? Don’t even think about putting yourself in harm’s way, kid.” 

Peter thinks for a moment before saying, “I can’t promise that, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah,” Tony letting out a long exhale. “I didn’t think you would.” 

He smirked, putting his hands out. “Figure I’d try anyway.” 

Peter only smiled in return, watching as Doctor Strange walked into view. 

“Stark.” Tony rolled his eyes, turning to him.

“Yes Doogie Howser?” Strange looks unamused. 

“We need to talk.” He looks to Peter. “Alone.”

Tony purses his lips, eyes narrowing before agreeing. He turns back to Peter.

“Alright, kid. Gimme a sec with the good doctor.” Peter starts to speak up before Tony puts out a hand.

“Ah. Ah. No arguments. Sit there like a good Avenger and wait for a second alright, kid?”

Peter can’t help but feel the flush of excitement at being referred to as an Avenger, the newness of it stirring awe. 

Tony goes to join Strange before pausing. 

The next words he says are ones that Peter remembers for a long time after. 

“You’ve gotta good head on your shoulders, kid. I don’t tell you that enough but… I mean it. Trust your gut. Unless your gut leads you into outer space again alright?” 

Tony turned. 

And then everything changed. 

* * *

As Peter’s hands tapped his thigh nervously, his face forward to the station in front of him, Tony’s words ran like a current through his head. 

_Trust your gut. Trust your gut. Trust your gut._

He thought he had, thought he’d finally was doing some good for once - handing those glasses over to Beck.

He’d fucked up, Peter knew he had. But until that message played in Times Square, Peter thought that maybe once - just once - life would turn out okay for him. 

Parker luck apparently had other ideas in mind. 

He thought he could trust his gut. But now - standing in front of the station - Peter can’t help but think that even everything within him was telling him that this was the right thing to do, the right move to make - that maybe May and MJ had been right. Maybe his gut was leading him in the wrong direction, another ill-fated trip to the stars of his own making.

He shakes the sliver of doubt away, grits his teeth. 

No. 

Peter had second guessed himself enough. He was going to do this. He had to do this.

This was different. Different than the trip to space, to Beck. 

Protecting his family, his friends - it wasn't up for debate.

It was his responsibility. 

Maybe he was being foolish. Maybe it wasn’t right. 

But Peter wouldn’t risk putting May or MJ in danger. 

Not again. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to lose anyone else again. 

He wouldn’t run away from responsibility anymore. 

Peter takes a step forward, when his senses start to go haywire. He stops - hand outstretched poised and ready. 

He goes to turn. But it’s too late. 

Before Peter can make sense of what’s happening, before he can even think, everything shifts around him.

And the world fades to black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when people yell at me in the comments!!


	3. Until the Night Turns.

One moment, Peter is in front of the station. 

In the next, he’s in a dark room. It’s quiet, the room filled with what Peter can only guess are statues and figurines. He’d almost think he had sneaked into a museum after hours, if the switch from outside the station hadn’t been so abrupt. 

Peter tenses, arms outstretched.

“It’s just me, Parker.” Peter stops, recognizing the voice. 

“Doctor Strange?” 

The sorcerer walks into view - dramatically, Peter thinks - with a look of vague annoyance on his face. 

“I can’t allow you to do this, Peter.” 

Peter blinks then shakes his head. 

“Do what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Parker. Were you or were you not about to walk into that station and turn yourself in?” 

Peter frowns. “Yeah? And? You can’t stop me, Strange.” 

Peter’s annoyance matches the look on Strange’s face. None of the Avengers had been around in the last few months, none of them had checked up on Peter. Last Peter checked, he wasn’t sure if Strange _was_ an Avenger. 

Besides, Peter didn’t need checking up on. He was fine. 

He’d proven as much in the months they’d left him alone. 

* * *

“You doing alright, Pete?” 

Peter looks up, May’s eyes questioning. He moves around the pot roast - May’s slightly modified version of it anyway - on his plate, eyes glancing back down. 

“Yeah, I’m fine May.”

“You sure, kid? I know tonight was a lot for you.” Peter lets out a breath, willing May to move on. 

He liked helping May do her thing, her new job with helping the displaced from the Blip. It felt good for Spider-Man to do things that didn’t end up with him having to face some bullet, knife or whatever the hell else someone imagined as a weapon. 

Peter should’ve expected the cameras, the lights bright and the flashing of pictures being taken in his face. 

He did to some extent. Even expected the questioning. 

And then to see yet another mural for Tony, almost taunting him with his barely contained grief…

Peter had had worse nights. 

But it still sucked to feel so adrift.

_Are you an Avenger now?_

It’s a question he asked himself all the time. 

Who the hell were the Avengers now anyway? 

“Peter.” May’s question brings him out of it, meeting May’s gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, May.” 

“You know if this is getting to be too much for you--”

“It’s fine, May.”

“We can always just have you sign some autographs or something? Do a little Snaptogram video or something?” 

Peter makes a face. “That’s… not a real thing.”

A beat. 

“Right?”

May sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Hell if I know, Pete. The Blip really changed a lot for us. Who knows what’s out there.” She leans forward, moving her hand across their cramped dining table to rest it on his. 

“The point, which don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to avoid, is that if all of this… publicity stuff is getting to be a little too much for you, all you have to do is say, kiddo.” May smiles, Peter returning it.

“I will, May I promise.” He shakes his shoulders, ridding himself off the melancholy mood. 

“The trip to Europe will be good for me, I think. A break, maybe?” May grips his hand, smiling. 

“Yeah, Pete. I think so too.” 

* * *

Peter should’ve known nothing in his life ever went according to plan. Even with all the shit that Beck had done, Peter at least had MJ. Could still be thankful that she, Ned, and all his friends - even Flash - were still alive. 

Peter was determined to keep it that way. 

“Listen Doctor Strange, I don’t know what your deal is but I need to get back.”

“What you _need_ to do is listen, Parker.” Strange’s face is firm, eyes narrowing on Peter as he walks toward him. 

Peter involuntarily takes a step back, wary. 

He wasn’t scared of Strange, knew the man was an actual sorcerer and not a fake like Beck had been. 

But the thought of another magician playing with his mind didn’t sit well with him. 

“I cannot stop you.” Strange says derisively, Peter’s annoyance raising. 

“But I can show you what happens.”

Peter stops, the sarcastic comment that had been building stopped. 

“What do you mean?”

Strange moves his hands, creating a long shimmering string. Peter watches as the string of… whatever it was, hung in the air. 

“I understand that you’re aware of the multiverse.” 

Peter looks to Strange, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Yeah I guess. I don’t know.” Peter’s eyes glance around to where they are, eyes already adjusted to his surroundings. 

It wasn’t a museum, Peter could sense the temperature was far too warm for the kind of artifacts a museum would have, but it certainly held things that seemed… old. Ancient, in a way. 

The odd relics and statues gave off an almost otherworldly vibe to Peter. A shiver went down his spine. 

“Yeah, I know of it.” Peter continues, bringing his focus back to Strange. “Well, I know that it might exist.”

His expression hardens. “The last person who said the multiverse was real ended up being full of shit.” 

“Well, I can assure that it’s real.” Strange motioning for Peter to come closer, the strand in front of them becoming brighter. 

“Unbeknownst to many, there are millions of realities - of universes, outcomes, possibilities - that run in tandem with our own. One small diversion,” Strange sets off a spark in a different direction, Peter watching as the line turns black, flowing away from the original.

“And a branched reality is created.” 

Something stirs in Peter, the possibility of multiple realities. But he shakes his head, strengthening his resolve. 

“What does that have to do with me?” 

Strange purses his lips, moves his hand across the strand once more. This time multiple branches appear, going off in every which direction.

“It has everything to do with you, Peter.” 

Strange points a finger to one branch, Peter watching as it sparked from the proximity of Strange’s hand. 

“In this reality, you walk away from the station. Disappear.” 

He brings up another. 

“This one, you’re shot before you even make it to the front door.” 

Peter’s eyes widen, but Strange continues. 

“In this one, you’re sent away. The public, your family, no one ever sees you again. Yet in this one, you’re made an example. You never face a moment’s peace ever again.” 

Strange continues to move branches in front of Peter, pointing out the multitude of ways that Peter’s life could damaged further. 

“Stop!” Peter exclaims, Strange immediately pausing. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Peter whispers, eyes searching Strange. He watches as the expression on Strange’s face turns from one of mild annoyance into one of something almost like sympathy. 

“Because Peter. Your future - this future - is heavily dependent on the next choice you make. However,” Strange moves his hands, removing the strands all together until they’re left in the almost-dark. 

“Each of these branches are spawned from the terrible decision to turn yourself in.” 

Peter’s face hardens as he grinds his teeth. 

“You don’t understand. I have to do this.” 

“No. You _don’t_ have to do this, you’re just like Stark. Stubborn.” The mention of Tony gut punches Peter, Strange continuing. 

“Didn’t sound like Mr. Stark had much of a choice. Why are you giving me one?”

Strange pauses, his eyes closing. He’s silent for a moment. 

“You matter to this reality, Peter. It is vital that you do _not_ walk through those station doors.” 

Peter shakes his head, refusing to listen. 

“Look, I don’t care what it is that you think you see--”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what I know--”

“Whatever, look.” Peter takes a step forward. 

“I know what I need to do. I’m not running, not anymore. Take me back to the station or I’ll…” 

“You’ll what, Peter? How many times do I have to say this? You’re not thinking. Clearly, the stress is getting to your head.”

“I’m not, I’m not stressed, Strange!” Peter’s hands form into fists, the fury building again. “I have to do this. I can’t let May or MJ or Ned or anyone be at risk. Not anymore. Not for me.” 

Peter takes a shaky breath, telling himself this was the right thing to do. 

“I have to do this. It’s my responsibility.” 

Strange considers him for a moment, eyes narrowing. 

“Your responsibility?”

Peter nods. “Yeah.” 

Strange purses his lips once more, Peter can almost hear the man’s thoughts rattling around in his head. He was clearly thinking of something to distract Peter, to change his mind. 

Peter had been swayed by too many people for too long. He knew what he was doing was right.

He was sticking to it. 

“Well in the interest of responsibility, don’t you think you should at least know what you’re walking into?”

Peter blinked, a look of confusion on his face.

Whatever he had expected Strange to say or do - that certainly hadn’t been it. 

“What--”

“Don’t you think that the right thing to do - the _responsible_ \- thing to do, would be to know exactly what it is you might encounter, should you do this?” 

Peter stares at Strange.

“What are you talking about?”

Strange takes a deep breap, exhaling what seemed to be his last shred of annoyance at how obstinate Peter was being. 

He knew what Strange was offering, Peter wasn’t stupid. 

The branched timelines. The multiverse. 

A chance to see what he was doing. 

But Peter was tired of filling in the gaps, tired of making up for the inadequacies and assumptions of the adults around him, all somehow believing that he should be the one to make decisions that were entirely too much for him. 

Peter wasn’t running away from his responsibilities, not anymore. But pretending as if he was three steps ahead of the adults in the room, as if it was his job to jump ahead to whatever it is they were trying to explain - Peter was done with that. 

“I can offer you a chance - one chance - to see how some of these realities play out.” Strange closes his eyes, a hand up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“There are over 7,321,394 possibilities that unfold if you decide to do this Peter.” Peter balks, Strange continuing. 

“I can show you three.” 

“Why three?” Strange opens his eyes again, a neutral expression on his face. 

“Three should be enough to understand the gravity of the decision you’re making. The importance of what you’re doing.” 

As Peter looks back to Strange, eyes looking at him up and down, he knows that he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted with the offer. 

“But only if you want to see.” Strange just looks at him, completely neutral. 

Peter takes a moment, a thousand thoughts running through his head. 

Wasn’t he just second-guessing this? 

No. This was the right thing to do. He had to. To save them. To protect May. Michelle. 

“Tell me Parker. “What do you want to do?” 

Strange had seen millions of different outcomes in the fight on that alien planet. And yet the only one he allowed to happen had resulted in the death of yet another father figure in Peter’s life. 

Strange couldn’t be trusted. Not really.

 _But maybe he could._

Peter’s torn. He’s sure. He _knows_ this is the right thing to do. 

And yet. 

Here it is. The chance to see, to really _know_ for sure that what he was doing was right. No tricks. No illusions. Beck was dead. 

He thinks of Tony’s words. 

_Trust your gut._

Peter decides. 

“Show me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a proven fact that yelling at me in the comments makes me write faster. Donate a comment today and save a struggling writer.


	4. Lost in Time and Space.

Everything shifts before he gets the chance to get his bearings, Peter’s head spinning from the sudden change in surroundings. Strange is still in front of him, hands moving slowly but intentionally as a green glow envelops them. 

Peter goes to speak but finds he can’t, eyes widening as he looks at Strange - his own face neutral, concentrated on whatever it was he was doing. Peter feels like he can’t breathe, the pressure of whatever Strange is doing is so intense. He wants to move, send a hand out but he’s frozen - stuck in place. 

Just as quickly as it starts, it’s over, Peter breathing heavily from the sudden change in gravity. His ears feel like they’re popping, his throat suddenly dry as he tries to swallow. 

Peter opens his mouth to ask Strange a question, ask what the hell he’d just done when he sees… _himself_. 

“What the--” Strange looks up at him, the greenish light fading as he turns towards where Peter’s eyes had landed. 

“Is this… a vision?” 

Strange looks at him passively. “It is a reality.” Peter blinks, then looks back to _him._ It looks just like him, a little skinnier and the circles under his eyes are darker.

The other Peter is in a room, cold and damp. There’s a metal bed, a toilet in the corner, a small window where light only barely is let in. Peter’s eyes widen as he glances around, trying to make sense of it. The room itself felt… dark, there was no other way for Peter to try and describe it. He can _smell_ it, the stench of waste and urine and sweat making him want to gag. 

Yet the thing that freaks Peter out the most isn’t just the smell, the compact size of the room, the darkness all around him - it was seeing _himself._

This Peter was listless, gazing off into the distance. Peter involuntarily leans in, watching to see if the other Peter is even blinking. 

He is, though it seems it takes considerable effort for the other Peter to do so. Peter watches in horror as the other Peter’s breathing seems haggard, wheezing with a rattle in his chest that reminds him of the asthma he hasn’t had in years. Watching the other Peter, seeing how much he struggles to breathe, causing him to take a step back, eyes dancing around himself - knowing it _isn’t_ him, even if looks so much like him.

There are multiple cuts all up and down the other Peter’s arms, ones that cause Peter’s stomach to drop for the shape of them - a question in the back of his mind of how many had been done to him, and how many were self-inflicted. There are bruises all up and down his neck, a cut on the other Peter’s lip that makes his face look swollen.

Peter furrows his eyebrows, confused. No matter what reality they were in, Peter still had his powers. He should be healed, there shouldn’t be any kind of scarring or bruising - and from what Peter can make out, the cuts on his arms at least looked like they’d been there a long time. 

Peter knew what he had asked Strange for, a glimpse into realities - the possible outcomes of his decision to turn himself in. 

But the leftover trauma of Beck’s illusions still rattled around inside Peter, his heart racing as Strange spoke. 

“This is a reality in which you try and turn yourself in. The police take you into custody. You’re charged with murder.” Peter’s eyes widen, looking back to Strange. 

“What?” Strange nods, turning back to the other Peter.

“I thought, I thought the cops would have to realize it couldn’t be true. I mean, Pepper--”

“You told Pepper to call off the lawyers. Turned off your cell phone, turned yourself in of your own volition.” Peter’s silent as Strange continues. 

“Without a lawyer present, with your own ill-conceived idea of how you could solve this problem, you inevitably put yourself in the position of serving as your own defense.” Peter shakes his head, backing up.

“No, that’s not how it works. I’d, I’d get a court-appointed lawyer, I’m a minor, they wouldn’t try to--” 

“What wouldn’t they? You go in and all but admit that you murdered Beck, turning yourself in appears to be an admission of guilt.” 

Peter just continues to shake his head, his gaze returning to other Peter. The other Peter is still breathing, barely it seems. Even if it’s him, on some level he recognizes that it also _isn’t_ him - Peter feels a surge of empathy for this Peter, the hell he’d clearly been through. 

“What happened to me?”

Strange frowns, not answering until Peter’s eyes go back toward him.

“You… were sent to Rikers.” Peter freezes at the name, a chill running down his spine. 

Rikers was where Liz’s dad had been sent, where Peter had put away plenty of people who had no love for Spider-Man. 

Mr. Toomes had never outed his identity from what he could tell, but if Beck’s words made their way there - and from the look that _this_ Peter’s face had - then the prison mates there would be anything but welcome to him. 

“Why am I here? Why didn’t I get to sent to juvie?” 

Strange doesn’t answer, causing Peter’s mind to race. It didn’t make sense, even if he was enhanced - Peter was still under eighteen. He didn’t confess to murder, he wouldn’t have - Peter just wanted to do the right thing. 

_It’s the right thing to do. It’s what will keep Michelle and May safe._

Peter’s head snaps up, the motion of it causing Strange to look at him. 

“What happened to May? To MJ?”

Strange’s lips press firmly together, Peter recognizing that this was clearly a question he hadn’t wanted him to ask.

“What happened?” Peter presses, Strange sighing. 

“May was put into witness protection, by Fury.” Strange nods, glancing back to other Peter. “Fury tried his best, to get you under his protection but by turning yourself in,” Strange goes back to Peter, “You sealed your fate.” 

“But is she, is she okay? Is she safe?” 

Strange is silent, mulling over Peter’s question before relenting.

“She is safe, Peter. Worried for you and wishing you were with her, but safe.” Peter breathes a sigh of relief, before his mind goes to Michelle.

“And MJ? Ned? Are they--”

“Your friends are safe, Peter.” Strange cuts him off, sighing again. “Ned and his family moved out of the city, his father conveniently receiving a promotion that takes him to California.” 

Peter understands the insinuation, glad that Fury seemed to be looking out not just for May, but also for his friend.

“And MJ?”

“Your girlfriend…” Strange pauses, eyes searching the distance as Peter holds his breath.

“She is safe, Peter but much like your aunt, she is furious with you. Concerned. You aren’t allowed visitors, considering the circumstances.”

Peter closes his eyes, nodding his head before he turns to look back towards the other Peter.

The other Peter looks miserable, broken in a way that Peter could only barely understand. It’s a brokenness he’d only felt in his nightmares, the dread and darkness of his misery pulling him deeper and deeper until he’d cry out, grasping at the world around him. 

Yet all Peter can think of - even seeing the other Peter - is the overwhelming relief of knowing that his friends and family are _safe_ , protected. They were okay.

This Peter clearly wasn’t, the magnitude of the horrors that had been done to him not completely registering in his mind - but everyone else was okay. 

Suddenly the other Peter moves, blinking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in, Peter watching as he gets off the creaky metal bed, almost as if he’s walking straight towards him.

Peter freezes, eyes widening before glancing to Strange - who just watches. 

The other Peter stops a few feet in front of him, takes a few more shaky breaths, before turning - walking back to the bed. 

It’s then that Peter notices the implant in the back of the other’s Peter’s neck, a small square that’s blinking. There’s something about it that sends Peter’s senses off, makes him want to run away from the room. 

“What is that?” Peter asks, watching as other Peter starts to pace. His face is still blank, neutral in a way that causes Peter’s stomach to churn.

Strange doesn’t answer him, Peter getting frustrated. 

“You said you would show me this shit for a reason, to try and change my mind. But it doesn’t help me if you don’t explain what’s--”

Before Peter can finish, he watches in horror as the other Peter cries out, head snapped back as his back arches. The other Peter’s on the ground before Peter can even blink, writhing in pain as Peter watches, mouth open.

“It’s a way to keep you controlled, your strength and your healing.” Strange finally speaks but Peter’s eyes are solely focused on the other Peter, who hasn’t stopped convulsing, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

It’s horrifying to watch, would be for anyone but made even more so because he’s watching _himself_. Peter puts a hand out to Strange, a panic in his voice that surprises him.

“Can’t we, can’t we stop it? Help him? I don’t, I can’t keep--”

“This is you, Peter. This is your reality, one of them, if you choose to--”

“Don’t give me that shit, Strange. Just do something.” Peter’s voice is sharp, the ache in the back of his stomach growing as the other Peter continues to shake violently. But then the other Peter stops, goes still.

Peter’s eyes widen.

“Am I…”

“No.” Strange walks forward, kneeling down over the other Peter. He notices that Strange doesn’t put a hand towards him, wondering for the first time if they could even really interact with the world they were in. He’d been too focused on the other Peter’s misery to consider the implications, the mechanics of what they were doing. 

How did this even work? Was this truly a parallel? It wasn’t _really_ him, yet Peter still felt like he could throw up - the violence and the horror of what he’d just watched sinking in. 

“Not yet.”

Peter’s head snaps up, watching as Strange stands back up, turning to him.

“They keep you here, like this, for years. Prisoners make attempts on your life so frequently, they eventually move you into solitary. That says nothing of the attempts you make on your own.”

Peter feels as if the pit in his stomach grows larger, Strange continuing. 

“The Rikers staff do you no favors. The implant is not just a way of keeping you controlled, but a way for sadistic prison guards to take out their aggression.” Strange sighs, closing his eyes. 

"They torture you." 

Peter’s mouth feels dry, opening and closing his mouth as his brain tries to make sense of what Strange is saying.

“May would, May would never allow this. Fury, if he--”

“As I said before, Peter, turning yourself in as you did effectively removed yourself from Fury’s protection, beyond even what Pepper Potts could try and salvage.” Strange purses his lips. “Not that she hadn’t tried.” 

“But by the time she’s able to get to you, it will be too late.” 

Peter swallows, his breath shaky as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“You don’t make it to your twenty-first birthday. The guards push it too far one day, leave you in your cell without relief.” 

Peter closes his eyes, willing the image of it out of his head even if he knows it’s not in front of him.

“They finally check on you three weeks later.”

Peter feels as if the wind is knocked out of him, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This can’t, this can’t be real.”

“It isn’t.”

Peter looks back to Strange in shock. “What do you mean?”

“Not yet, Peter. It is a possibility, one reality that unfolds, should you make the decision to turn yourself in.” Strange’s eyes darken, Peter trying to stable himself.

“It is not the worst one, but it should be enough for your to consider - to _understand_ \- what turning yourself in would do.”

Peter lets the words wash over him, thinking over it as Strange watches him intently. He understand what Strange is trying to do - trying to scare him into changing his mind - and yet Peter’s struck with another thought.

The other Peter is miserable and broken, clearly headed towards an end that is bleak and without hope. 

Yet there _was_ still hope, for Peter in some way.

May. Michelle. Ned. 

They were _safe._

The other Peter wasn’t, Peter can’t even bring himself to look at him. But there was a sense of security, a confidence that Peter couldn’t shake that even if his life went to hell, he could at least be thankful that the people he loved were safe and whole.

He pushes out of his head what his death and misery would mean for them, willing himself instead to focus on the fact that they’re alive. 

Strange must see the change in Peter’s face, his lips pressing firmly together as Peter’s back straightens, looking back at him.

“This… wasn’t enough for you.” It’s not a question, Peter staring back at him.

“It’s the right thing to do, Strange. I have to.” 

Strange’s expression hardens even further, eyes narrowing.

“What will it take for you to understand, Peter?” 

Peter glances back to the other Peter, nodding before gritting his teeth, looking back to Strange.

“I understand fine, Strange. Life’s shit and then you die.” He takes a step forward, watching Strange take him in.

“But the people that matter? May and MJ? Ned? They’re okay.” He takes a deep, stabling breath and exhales, ridding himself of the nightmare that this Peter had yet to face.

“They’re all that matters.”

Strange is silent, then nods.

“I assumed you would say something to that effect.”

Peter waits, Strange continuing.

“There are still two more realities to see.”

Peter just nods, jaw set as Strange moves his hands, the green glow enveloping the two of them.

Peter glances towards the other Peter once more, closes his eyes and lets the world around him shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it me I haven't forgotten this story. I've just been emotionally destroyed writing an [A Walk to Remember AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033305/chapters/47438809) for the past few weeks. 
> 
> thanks for your patience!! please feel free to scream at me.


	5. I Was Not Born to Drown.

Peter feels like his stomach is in knots, though whether that has to do with what he’s just seen or with the sudden change of gravity, he doesn’t know. 

The world shifts and spins around him, Peter keeping his eyes open - focused on Strange as the man’s own eyes were closed, moving his hands in a circle. 

Peter studied him, trying to figure out why the hell Strange was doing this to him.

Strange said he was important to the timeline - to _this_ timeline - yet he seemed to have no qualms with having Peter being subjected to pain and suffering in others. 

There’s a voice in the back of his head that says that Peter is overthinking this, trying to make sense of the nonsensical - of time travel and paradoxes and multiple realities. 

But all Peter can circle back to - the primary thought running through his head - is the unfairness of it all, the unfairness and power that Strange has. 

Strange saw millions of possibilities on that miserable alien planet, yet it was clear from Peter’s own current journey that there were millions of others out there - paths that weren’t taken, paths that maybe Tony had survived. 

The ground shifts beneath Peter, throwing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. 

Peter can’t change the past, not even Strange seems open to _that_ possibility. But the seed of mistrust and doubt is there, hovering in the background as the scenes around them start to stabilize. 

Strange deemed him important for _this_ reality. But the sinking feeling in Peter’s gut questions to what end. 

“Where are we?” Peter asks, shooting a nervous glance to Strange as his senses start to flare.

He immediately felt as if he was in danger, arms poised and ready to strike even as he glanced around. 

There was nothing - they were in the desert, an abandoned building off in the distance as the hot sun beating down on Peter’s neck - already causing him to sweat. A part of Peter wondered if this was mental, it didn’t seem likely that they were _actually_ present in whatever realities Strange deigned to show him. 

But the heat that he may or may not feel is forgotten when he sees her. 

“May?” 

He sees the figure in the distance, running as fast as she can. The clothes she’s wearing are worn, dirty and ripped apart. Peter goes forward to meet her when Strange’s steady hand keeps him still. 

Peter shoots him a dirty look, going to shove him away easily but the look in his eyes gives him pause.

There’s remorse in them, his piercing blue eyes boring into Peter - pleading with him. 

It’s enough to give Peter pause, even if everything in him is screaming for him to run - away, towards May, Peter’s not sure.

May continues pushing forward, Peter’s heart clenching at how haggard and out of breath she was. She’s running towards them, almost as if she’s going to barrel into them when she lets out a sharp cry.

“PETER!”

It’s enough for Peter to stiffen, thinking beyond all hope that May - _this May_ \- can see him, until she rushes past them, Peter turning to see what had he had missed before.

Because there he is - another him. 

Peter - _anoth_ _er_ Peter - is slumped over on the side of the road, gasping. There’s blood coming out of a deep gash in his side, Peter wincing at how the other Peter struggled to breathe. 

The phantom pain of being hit in that train in Europe crawls over him, Peter suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t expand his own chest. Strange’s hand on his shoulder steadies him, the grip tightening slightly. 

May rushes forward to the other Peter, crying as her hands immediately went to his side. Peter goes to move forward, and this time - Strange doesn’t stop him.

“Peter, baby, look at me. Look at me.” The other Peter does, or tries to - gasping out in pain as he glances up towards May.

Peter walks around to see May, stomach clenching as he sees the tears falling down her face. 

“We had a plan. We were going to lay low, stay another night then leave. What were you thinking?” May whispers, shifting her grip on him as one hand tried - and failed - to stop the blood pouring out of him as her other went towards the bag strapped across her chest. 

“May…”

“Pete, we talked about this. You can’t keep putting yourself in danger. Not for me, kiddo alright? That’s my job, you’re _my_ responsibility, Pete.” 

May’s face twists into something more like panic, Peter’s eyes moving from hers to the other Peter. 

In the two seconds he’s been there, the other Peter’s become ghost-white and pale. Peter can hear the other Peter’s heartbeat slow, his hands shaking as he realizes what he’s witnessing. 

“Strange…”

Strange says nothing, a grim look on his face as he looks to Peter and then away.

Peter should know by now that Strange wouldn’t interfere - not with a timeline or a Peter that was of no relevance to him - but it doesn’t make what he was seeing any less terrifying. 

Peter glances around, seeing and hearing no one before turning back to May - going to kneel beside the other Peter. 

Peter had watched people die before.

His parents in a car accident.

Uncle Ben.

Tony.

There was a new kind of horror in watching yourself die, knowing the person you loved most in the world was powerless to stop it. 

“Peter? Peter, come on baby. No, no, no, no, don’t do this. Don’t do this alright? We’ve made it this far, alright? Come on, Peter look at me.” 

Peter feels like something’s lodged in the back of his throat, seeing the panic and fear in May’s eyes and voice - whatever she was searching for in her bag forgotten as she returned full pressure to Peter’s side. 

The other Peter must know what Peter himself can already sense, a truth that May was refusing to acknowledge. 

Peter was dying. 

“May…” The other Peter’s voice sounds haggard, May crumbling at the sound. 

The sight of it - of May - bowls Peter over. 

“No, baby, please, _please_. We almost made it out. We almost made it, come on. Please just stay with me. Please, baby. Please.”

Peter hears the stutter of the other Peter’s heartbeat then - to his horror - it stops, eyes going from the broken expression on May’s face to himself.

The other Peter’s eyes dim, a sharp gasp and then - nothing. 

A guttural cry comes out of May, her hands moving from the wound on his side to his face - Peter wanting to gag at seeing how bloody they were as she cradled his face. 

“ _No_ , Peter. Please, please… come back to me. Come on, Pete. Come back to me.” 

Peter doesn’t wait for the answer he knows May won’t get, hands shaking as he stands up and backs away.

He looks back to Strange, seeing the miserable expression on his face.

“Why the fuck are you showing me this?”

“To help you understand--”

“What do I need to understand? That my life is fucked up no matter what I do? I just watched myself _die_ , Strange.” He stumbles backwards, eyes shutting as May’s sobs start to overwhelm him.

“I’m sick of going through the multiverse, Strange. Just take me back, leave me alone.” 

“You have to see this, Peter. This is a direct consequence of turning yourself in.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, opening his eyes again as he moves past May and her cries - getting right into Strange’s face. 

“What about the other me, then huh? Prison me? What’s the difference? What does it matter? What does any of this matter?”

Strange says nothing, Peter’s lip trembling as he tries to drown out May's broken sobs in the background. 

Peter can sense that he’s going into a mild form of shock, all the shit that he’d been through the past week hitting him all at once. 

He’d almost died - several times in Europe. His friends, MJ - all of them because of the shit Beck had done. 

The things Peter had done. 

And now, Peter - _another_ Peter - had just died in front of him and it was as if he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What happens next? What happens… after this?” Peter waves a hand towards where May and the other Peter lay, not even bothering to try and understand how they got to that point.

Peter could tell - from the way their clothes looked - that it was clear that they had been on the run, had likely run into some kind of trouble that Peter had tried to save her from. 

Peter had a feeling that his heroics would get himself killed someday. But if it was too late to save himself - he could only hope that whatever else happened in this world, May would be alright. 

“May buries you, over there.” Peter winces, shaking his head.

“I don’t-- don’t tell me that.”

“You want to know what happens to May.”

It’s not a question but Peter can hear the resignation in Strange’s voice. 

Peter says nothing, facing forward and straightening his jaw. 

Strange sighs, a deep and anguished one that almost throws Peter off. There’s a trace of concern in the gesture, a feeling that Peter doesn’t understand - if only for who it was coming from. 

“May survives. She never gets over this. She never will.” Strange looks to May then back to Peter, the remorse growing.

“Do you really have so little care for yourself, Peter, so little attention to what this world would be like without you?”

Peter stays silent, conflicting emotions running through him.

He doesn’t want to die - in any universe - but there’s a responsibility that won’t get away from him, a pressure and an understanding with himself that it doesn’t matter what happens to him - not really, no matter what.

Peter wasn’t the priority. The people that he loved were.

Strange sighs again, closing his eyes. 

“I had hoped that we would not have to come to this.” 

“Take me home, Strange. I’ve seen all I’ve needed to see.”

“No, Peter… you haven’t.” Unlike before, Strange seems reluctant. 

“If… would it be possible, for you to change your mind - to reconsider how stubborn you are being, if there were consequences beyond you?” 

Peter stops.

“What do you mean?”

“There is a timeline... “ Strange pauses, seemingly debating his next few words carefully. 

“What timeline?”

Strange purses his lips, his eyes not meeting Peter’s. 

“A time in which you have a future. It’s a slim one, a rare possibility.” 

Strange’s eyes darken, a look on his face that Peter doesn’t recognize. 

“A future? What do you mean?”

A look of almost pity crosses Strange’s face. 

“It is a possibility, two differing branches of the same timeline. But I must stress to you Peter, the chances of it ending differently are a near impossibility.”

Peter shakes his head, confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“A future… for you. And Michelle.”

Peter stiffens.

“With... with MJ?”

Strange says nothing, his face turning neutral once again. There’s a crack in Strange's expression, just under the surface but Peter says nothing, pushing forward.

“I have a future with MJ? A real one?” 

Strange seems to debate with himself, Peter’s hand still shaking. 

“If _this_ timeline wasn’t enough to convince you, “Strange says, gesturing towards where the other Peter and May still were, “Then maybe this next timeline will. 

Strange takes a deep breath. “I warn you, Peter. It does not end well.”

Peter shakes his head again. “You just said we had a future together. I don’t understand.” 

Strange nods grimly.

“You will.”

And Peter is thrown into darkness once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, it me again. still here. still kicking. 
> 
> next chapter's the whole reason i wanted to start this story..............
> 
> get ready.


	6. The Night We Met

It swirls around him, dark and light all around. There’s a shift that levels Peter, a feeling that this time, he’s traveling somewhere different - somewhere more precious and more dangerous than he can comprehend.

None of this makes sense to him - in the abstract. Peter always used to think that it was arrogant to assume that their world was the only one, the possibilities of what was out there feeling endless.

As the world around him starts to come into focus, Peter finds his mind wandering elsewhere - a memory when his current predicament had seemed to be far off nightmare. 

* * *

“Hey Mr. Stark.” Peter rushes past him, Tony’s eyes fixed on a StarkPad. Peter puts his phone in his mouth - a habit that disgusted May - as he shrugs his jacket off, laying his backpack on the floor. 

He puts the phone on the lab counter, reaching down for his backpack as he fiddled through it - sighing to himself realizing he forgot his chem book in the car. 

Peter goes to mention it to Tony, wondering if Happy stuck around when he’d drop Peter off by the Compound when he finally notices that Tony - still transfixed by the screen in front of him - hasn’t even acknowledged his presence. 

Peter clears his throat before saying, “Mr. Stark?”

Tony startles at the sound, blinking a few times before looking back to Peter. There’s a look that Peter doesn’t recognize in Tony’s eyes, one that quickly fades away as he sets down the StarkPad and turns to face him.

“Hey kid, sorry I was caught up with something.”

“You okay?” Tony nods, eyes elsewhere as Peter watches him. Tony seemed… frazzled, in a way that’s different from how Peter’s ever seen him before.

“Are you, are you sure, Mr. Stark?”

Tony brings himself to face Peter, locking eyes with him for a beat. It’s a look that sends a chill down Peter’s spine, one that isn’t threatening but makes Peter feel as if he’s somehow done something wrong.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, kid. Just… I got a question for you.”

Peter stills, waiting as Tony’s eyes flit to the ceiling before he puts his head in his hands. Tony sighs before bringing his head back up.

“Why’d you say no?”

Peter blinks.

“Say no… to what?”

“Sorry, bad habit. Pepper gets on to me about that all the time. Said no to all of this,” Tony motioned vaguely to the lab that they were in, “Being an Avenger full-time.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows, wondering if this was some other kind of test. He thought Tony had understood why he hadn’t accepted his offer and for the most part, had seemed grateful that he hadn’t. 

He can’t tell where this conversation might be going but Peter humors him all the same. 

“Uh, well, I meant what I said before, you know. Stay on the ground a little longer, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” 

Tony nods, running his hands along his thigh as he seems to think about something. 

“You sure you’re alright, Mr. Stark?” 

Tony pauses, Peter watching as his gaze went off to the side before looking back to him. “Yeah, kid. Just, some stuff you don’t need to worry about.” 

Peter frowned, about to question him further when Tony stood up beckoning him over to his lab desk. 

“Come on kid, got an idea for your voice modulator that I think you’ll get a kick out of.” 

* * *

The world starts to settle around Peter, throwing him out of the memory.

Tony had figured out a way to make his mask sound like he was Darth Vader, something Peter had thoroughly enjoyed even if he never used it - feeling paranoid that if he did, someone would somehow make the connection about his identity. 

_Isn’t that fucking ironic?_ Peter thinks to himself as everything settles - thinking back to the concern in Tony’s face. 

Peter had never figured out what had caused Tony to question him again, his request to FRIDAY going unanswered when Tony had left the room. Peter had overhead later that day about something happening with the rogue Avengers, some issue of the Accords but since Tony hadn’t brought it up again - Peter had dismissed it.

There was a lot Peter wishes he could ask Tony about now, but it was stupid stuff like that - unspoken conversations and dangling threads, all signs of a life cut too short - though Peter considers that Tony might’ve felt the same about him, when he’d been dusted. 

“Peter.”

Peter’s head turns to face Strange, seeing the look of concern on his face. 

“What? Where the hell are we _now_ , Strange?” He looks around, taking stock of his surroundings. 

He’s in an apartment he doesn’t recognize, nicely decorated if a little cluttered. There’s pictures all along the walls, a bookshelf that’s simultaneously organized and messy. The furniture is nice, nicer than anything he or May had ever owned but yet not quite as expensive as Tony’s had been. Peter’s stuck on this, the feeling of being somewhere weirdly familiar to him - even if he knows for a fact he’s never been here before.

Before Strange can answer, he hears the door unlock. And then hears her voice, eyes widening as he turned his head. 

“Peter, did you grab the mail? Cause if not, I think 3B is getting it again.” 

Seeing her takes his breath away because there, in front of him - is Michelle.

But it’s not the Michelle he knows, not now. She looks older, her face a bit more filled out and her hair wept up in a messy bun. A few curls frame her face, reminding Peter of how she’d looked at the bridge in London but it seems more intentional here, her hair just slightly shorter than it was now. She closes the door behind her, looking expectantly out into the apartment. 

He knows she can’t see him, recognizes that whatever magic Strange is doing to make them travel through parallel timelines make him unable to tangibly interact with the world around him. But Peter’s filled with the inexplicable need to touch her, hold her - to know that she’s okay. 

It doesn’t occur to him what she’d said until he hears another voice, one that he recognizes even as it throws him.

“Yeah, it’s on the counter. We got another bill from the insurance company, I gotta call them, thought you’d switched it over to email.”

It’s himself, just as Peter had seen two times before - but this Peter looks different, older - just like Michelle. 

His shoulders are broader, though Peter wonders if that’s because of his age or that he’s standing up straight - confident in a way that Peter’s only felt in fleeting moments. The other Peter’s hair is wavy, almost as if someone had rifled through it just seconds before. But what strikes Peter is how… content the other Peter looks, how completely at ease he seems to be. 

Peter watches as the other Peter strides into the living room from what he can only guess is the bedroom, rubbing his hair with a towel as if he’d just showered. The other Peter kisses Michelle, long enough for Peter to feel slightly uncomfortable at seeing it - even if it was arguably himself. 

“Did you use my soap?”

The other Peter laughs, Peter watching as he turned towards the kitchen. “You were the one who said you wanted to try out that new Aldi together. I could’ve stopped by Enzo’s downstairs but _no_.” 

Michelle laughs, Peter feeling his heart skip a beat at the sound. “Yeah but then I’d have to hear your smartass complaining about it for the next week.”

They continue to banter back and forth but Peter doesn’t hear it, blinking in confusion and turning back to Strange.

“What… what is this?”

Strange’s face is grim, lips pressed firmly together.

“I told you, Peter. It’s a future, one with you and Michelle.” 

“I, I don’t understand. You said that it doesn’t end well. But they…” Peter trails off, watching the two of them go back and forth, a small smile on his lips. 

The other Peter and Michelle seemed so at ease with each other, a comfortable familiarity that Peter could only dream of having - though it hits them that maybe with some time, maybe they would. 

He looks back to Strange, shaking his head. “They’re happy.” 

“They are. I told you before Peter, this timeline diverges in one of two ways.”

“Okay,” Peter’s quirks his eyebrows, glancing back to Michelle as she laughed at something the other Peter was saying, “What two ways? What happened in this timeline?”

Instead of answering, the scene in front of him shifts - as if they were moving through time but not quite changing realities. Peter watches himself - knowing it’s the other Peter but blinking in surprise at seeing him pause outside of the police station once more. 

The other Peter wrestles with himself for a moment, before turning away - rushing off in another direction. Peter glances back to Strange.

“I don’t understand, I thought I--” 

But Strange puts a hand up, gesturing his hand for Peter to keep watching. Peter turns back to see the other Peter turn right back around to the station, as if he was psyching himself up. He walks forward, opening the double doors.

And then the scene in front of Peter changes again. 

He’s still outside of the police station, but this time - they’re surrounded by people with various home-made and store-bought Spider-Man masks. He can barely decipher the chants from those around them, their voices loud and all intermingled. 

“I’m Spider-Man!”

“We’re Spider-Man”

“Save Spider-Man”

He wants to ask Strange what’s happening before he sees the police doors open again, the other Peter walking out of them as the crowd cheered. 

“We love you Spider-Man!”

“Yeah, free Spidey!” 

It’s overwhelming - both to Peter and the other Peter, the latter breaking out into a huge smile before giving a small wave. Peter notices the cuffs then, watching as an officer unlocks them as the crowd continues to cheer.

Out of nowhere, he sees a flash of curly hair rush up - cops going to stop her before the other Peter motions for them to stop. 

Peter smiles, recognizing her anywhere - watching as this Michelle rushes into Peter’s arms, pulling him into a hug that reminds him of the one she’d given him on the bridge. 

“I turn myself in, but the city… the city supports me?” Peter asks, looking back to Strange. His face is still neutral, a haunted expression in his eyes that Peter still doesn’t understand. 

He’s silent for a moment before nodding, the scene shifted back to the other Peter’s apartment. 

“They do. Rally for your release. There are many who don’t believe Jameson to begin with but the ones who do are vocal enough to allow you the chance to be free. The police had nothing on you other than your ill-conceived attempt to fix a problem that you had no business attempting to do on your own.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue but Strange presses forward.

“No charges are passed against you, partially due to the outcry but more to the point that the Daily Bugle is considered to be a less than credible news source.”

Peter closes his mouth at that, blinking in confusion. 

“I still don’t understand why this--”

“You don’t understand, Peter. I’ve tried to make you understand, tried to guide you through this to realize the importance that you have for our reality.”

“But I--”

“The universe exists in a delicate balance, all it takes is just _one_ wrong move, _one_ shift, and everything can change.” Strange is insistent now, almost as if he’s pleading for Peter to understand something that he’s felt Strange has explained to him over and over again.

“Yeah, I get it, Strange you’ve said that--”

“Peter, please.” Strange is almost begging, the waver in his voice throwing Peter. He’s never seen Strange anything less than composed, Peter’s mouth closing.

He watches Strange close his eyes, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself. 

“I’ve watched you die in countless ways, have seen your life torn apart in a million miserable outcomes.” 

Strange opens his eyes, a haunted look that scares Peter - one that reminds him of the look Tony had given him in the lab all those years ago. 

“This timeline, it’s one that’s filled with happiness for you. You grow, you learn, you change.” As Strange speaks, Peter sees the world around him shift again - flashes that he can barely make out.

Midtown graduation with Happy and May, moving into some kind of college dorm, video chatting with Ned, dates with Michelle. 

It’s fast, quick - Peter barely catching glimpses of it until he’s back in the apartment again. 

But this time it’s dark, quiet - a stillness in the air that makes the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand up. 

“What--”

“But there’s a darkness that lingers here, Peter. Something that cannot be undone, if certain events do not play out as they are intended to.” 

Peter feels like his heart is thundering in his chest, a terror that crawls up his spine that he can’t explain.

“What do you mean? What’s going on, what’s happening?”

The other Peter bursts through the window just then, Peter feeling caught off-guard - something he hasn’t felt in years. The other Peter is in the Spider-Man suit, one that Peter doesn’t recognize but it’s not the design that catches his eye - it’s how torn up, mangled and bloody the other Peter is. 

The peace and calm that the other Peter had before is completely gone, Peter suddenly feeling as if a weight had been placed on his chest for how panicked the other Peter looked.

“MJ? MJ, where are you?” The other Peter cries out, eyes frantically dancing around the apartment before Peter sees as he pauses, closing his eyes - as if he was trying to listen for something.

Peter can feel the anxiety gripping him, his vision focusing in on the tremble of the other Peter’s jaw, the sheer, unadulterated panic as he opened his eyes and yelled out.

“MJ? MJ, come on answer me. Michelle?” 

Peter can’t breathe, knowing as well as the other Peter can - there are no other sounds in the apartment. The other Peter rushes into the bedroom, as if possessed only for Peter to hear an agonizing wail. 

Peter wants to panic, the almost inhuman sound coming from the bedroom flooding him with terror. But then Strange - Peter having forgotten he was there with him - gently nudges him towards the bedroom door, Peter looking back.

Strange looks broken, desperate and miserable and yet he pushes Peter forward to see - as if they both know what’s beyond the door but neither want to face it. 

Peter takes a step forward, looks into the room and nearly falls to the floor.

Because there is the other Peter, gut-wrenching sobs coming out of him - his whole body shaking as he held Michelle in his arms. 

Peter sinks down to his knees, shaking his head in disbelief as the other Peter’s cries start to come into focus.

“MJ, wake up. Come on baby, wake up. Wake up for me. Please, just-just open your eyes okay? MJ, please. Michelle…” Peter watches in horror as the other Peter cradles Michelle closer to his chest, his throat closing at seeing how limp she was - the blood everywhere on the floor. 

Peter feels as if he’s back in Berlin, the illusion that Beck had given of throwing Michelle off the Eiffel Tower back in his mind. But that was fake, a trick to scare Peter. 

Even if Peter knows this isn’t him, knows that this isn’t his Michelle - _yet_ \- the reality in front of him is so incomprehensible, Peter feels as if he’s going to vomit. 

“Get me out of here.”

He can feel Strange’s hand on his shoulder, Peter shuddering.

“Peter.”

“I don’t—why are you showing me this?” Peter’s stomach rolling as the other Peter’s cries ring in his ears, closing his own eyes to try and rid himself of the image in front of him.

“You have to see, Peter. You have to know. You have to know what awaits you.” 

“You said they were happy, that we’d be happy. This isn’t-I can’t, I can’t--” Peter looks up to Strange, begging.

“Take me home. Strange, please.”

There’s sadness in Strange’s eyes, as he nods his head. Peter feels a sick sense of relief as the familiar greenish glow starts lights up the area around him. 

Yet even as the darkness closes in on him, the other Peter’s sobs fading in the background - Peter wonders if he’ll ever be able to escape the darkness he’d felt in that apartment. 


	7. When the Night is Over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had this planned for months and the end is finally here....
> 
> Though there is darkness... there is always the possibility of light <3

The world snaps back into focus, Peter gasping as his hands brace the floor - as if he can hope grounding himself in this reality will rid the memory of any other.

He can almost taste the air around him, the smell of the relics and hint of something otherworldly by being back in this room. For reasons he can’t even begin to explain, Peter knows that for as much time he’s spent traveling through realities - the hell that he’s just been through - no time has passed at all in this one.

He hears Strange move away from him, Peter closing his eyes as he tries to take a deep breath - his chest feeling heavy.

_MJ was dead._

It comes back to him, like waves breaking along the shore - the idea that in any reality, in any universe, that Michelle has died - a sinking feeling in his stomach that it had been his fault. 

Peter didn’t want to know what the reason was behind it, but it was a nagging thought in the back of his mind - a thread that he couldn’t quite untangle as he thought of what he’d seen.

Michelle was dead, in a world that Peter - another, older Peter - had found happiness. He couldn’t figure out how his identity hadn’t seemed to matter, the scene outside the police station making him more and more confused.

Peter knew that people liked Spider-Man for the most part - in a world that no longer had the Avengers, at least the ones that Peter had always known - Spider-Man represented something almost hopeful, his appearances at May’s fundraisers drawing huge crowds. 

It was something Peter didn’t let himself think about too much, the idea of not only letting his family and friends down - but the world. But then it seemed that at least in one reality, that appreciation had manifested in his exoneration. 

But there’s something else eating at him in the back of his mind, something that makes him breathe a little steadier, forcing himself off his knees as he stands.

Strange had been annoyingly cryptic, pleading with him to understand why he couldn’t turn himself in, only to show him a world that - until that awful moment - his life had turned out okay.

There’s something he’s missing, Peter’s mind whirring as he thought back to that moment - the image of himself holding a lifeless Michelle in his arms one that he knew he’d never be able to get rid of. But then his mind pushes further, back to what Strange had said before sending them there.

“ _It is a possibility, two differing branches of the same timeline.”_

Two branches of the same timeline. Two branches - meaning there was hope, a chance that it didn’t have to end the way he just saw.

He turns to Strange, seeing as the man watched him - the final part of his statement ringing in his ears. 

_“But I must stress to you Peter, the chances of it ending differently are a near impossibility.”_

“It doesn’t always end that way, does it?”

Strange has a grim look on his face, studying Peter as if he was debating what to tell him.

Peter had seen a lot of bullshit in his life, experienced more betrayal in the past week than he thinks he’s ever had before. The look on Strange’s face tells him all that he needs to know.

The other timeline - the one branch, the near impossibility - is real.

A chance that Peter turns himself in and the city supports him.

A chance that Peter grows up and stays with Michelle.

A chance that Peter doesn’t come home to a nightmare or doesn’t have to worry that he won’t come home at all.

A chance - one, minuscule as it might be - that Peter ends up happy. 

The feeling of desperation and anger and agony over what he just saw - of everything that he’s seen - melts away at the hope that’s sprung forward in his chest.

Peter knew that turning himself in was the right thing to do, none of Strange’s terrifying visions of alternative realities convincing him that it would be enough to change his mind.

Strange had clearly thought that the last one - the image of Peter’s decision somehow ending in the death of Michelle - would be enough to convince him otherwise.

And for a moment - it had.

But now Peter’s stuck on the specific sequence of words Strange had told him about this reality, the cryptic and vaguely worded statement that reminded him of the final words he’d told Tony before turning to dust on an alien planet.

_“It was the only way.”_

But was it? Was it the only way? If it ended with Tony dying, snapping his fingers and sending himself into oblivion - leaving the rest of the world, and the people he loved, to mourn him?

Even if it was, even if that was the _one_ chance that took to save the universe, Peter can’t help but think that there’s something that Strange isn’t telling him about this specific timeline - a gamble that feels justified from the look on Strange’s face. 

“No. It does not.” Strange finally answers, taking a step forward.

“Then why did you show me this one?” Peter asks through gritted teeth.

“There are forces in this universe that are beyond you, Peter. A delicate balance that requires very specific events to—“

“Cut the bullshit, Strange. You knew. You knew there was another reality where MJ and I are okay and you didn’t show me.” Peter takes a step forward, the neutral but guarded expression on Strange’s face confirming what he knows to be true.

“Why?”

Strange suddenly looks older than Peter’s ever seen him, a thought occurring to him that if Strange had lived through the millions of realities that he’d seen on Titan and in rifling through Peter’s lives as they had just done, that it likely weighed on him just as much as it now weighed on Peter. 

Though it seems as if it had only been seconds - if any time had passed at all - Peter feels as if he’s aged a lifetime. 

It’s hard for him to think that Beck had ousted his identity a few hours ago, that it’d been only two days since he’d arrived back from Europe.

A small wave of sympathy flows through him for Strange, Peter intensely curious now at what exactly he’d seen in all the alternate realities - only for his mind to focus again the moment Strange speaks.

“There is one, _only one_ , reality that ends the way you say. It is the slimmest of possibilities, a chance that I am not willing to risk in this scenario.”

“You risked it with Mr. Stark.”

“It was necessary for the universe, Peter.” Strange sighed, Peter seeing his shoulders sag. “Even still, that is a risk that I cannot not make again.”

Peter feels his breath catching, confirmation that he was right fueling his nascent feeling of hope.

“But if there is one reality, even just the one, then that means it’s possible. That there’s a chance. So just-just tell me what to do. Tell me what I have to do or avoid or whatever it is to make sure that that-that…” Peter trails off, the image of his other self cradling Michelle’s body back at the forefront of his memory.

Strange’s voice breaks through it. “If I told you, it wouldn’t happen.”

Peter blinks, shaking away the memory and looking back to Strange.

“What happens if I don’t turn myself in?”

Strange pauses, evaluating Peter once more.

“You want to see—“

“No, no, no.” Peter sighs, waving his hand in the hair. “I don’t, I can’t do that shit again.” His shoulders sag, closing his eyes as he shook his head.

“I am sorry, Peter. I know what you’ve seen is troublesome.”

“Look, I don't need to see it to know you’re good for it.” A lie, but Peter has to know now.

“What happens if I don’t turn myself in?”

Strange takes a deep breath.

“You have struggles, the question your identity is or is not resolved for the public’s eye depending on the path you choose. In some scenarios, you live very similarly to how you do now with a bit more attention. In others, you are a bit more… known.”

He doesn’t say it but Peter understands what he means, Tony’s question in the lab ringing back to him - the idea of why he chose to stay on the ground for just a little longer. 

All Peter had wanted before the Blip had been to become an Avenger. And now faced with that possibility, even after Beck and his bullshit, made Peter question his true purpose.

He wasn’t going to run away from his responsibility anymore. But Peter wondered just how much he needed to truly take on. 

“Does it ever end badly?”

Strange says nothing, confirming for Peter what he already knew.

There were realities in this path where Peter’s life does not unfold well, though to what extent Peter’s not sure he can handle seeing it. And yet for Strange, the possibilities for those happening were less of a risk, compared to the seemingly insurmountable odds against him if he turned himself in.

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, nodding his head.

“Okay Strange.”

Strange tilts his head.

“Okay?”

“Take me back. I need, I need to think and no offense but,” Peter glances around the room they’re in. “I can’t do that here.”

Strange presses his lips together, eyes narrowing.

“It seems you’ve decided.”

Peter doesn’t feel as if he owes him this honesty but he gives it anyway.

“No not, not entirely. But for what’s its worth,” Peter looks into his eyes, straightening his shoulders. “Thanks. For warning me. And sorry you had to see all of that too.”

Strange looks almost taken aback at that last sentence, to the point that Peter wonders if he’s going to say something. 

But then he doesn’t, circling his arms arms together until Peter is thrown back in front of the police station - as if no time has passed at all.

He’d meant what he said to Strange, the apology and the uncertainty. The path in front of him that had seem so sure, something that Peter had been convinced was the right thing to do suddenly seemed a bit more suspect.

Choosing not to turn himself in - though clearly not without its dangers, with the possibility of ending just as miserably and as horrifying as the last reality he saw - still seemed to hold more hope than any path where Peter turned himself in.

Even now - even _still_ \- Peter couldn’t deny the feeling that turning himself in was the right thing to do, Tony’s words and encouragement of trusting the system - not because Tony did but because he wanted Peter to be _better_ \- ring in his ears. 

Beck had changed everything for him, in more ways than one. But if there’s anything he thank a dead man for, it was this - Peter didn’t doubt himself anymore. 

There was risk and possibility in anything he chose, a knowledge that no matter what he decided - danger was always on the horizon. 

Strange had risked everything for the one reality in which they’d won - to lose only to later ultimately win - and even if he seemed hesitant to do so again for Peter, Peter knew that it wasn’t Strange’s decision to make.

He’d already decided the fate of the universe. Peter could decide his fate for himself.

But even as he’s facing the station, staring back at the place that could hold so much power over him - he knows that his fate is not just tied to himself. 

He saw first-hand what his death had done to May in one reality, the sinking horror of seeing Michelle’s death in another. 

It wasn’t just about Peter.

But Peter - remembering the bridge in London, Beck’s illusions threatening to taunt him, Beck himself almost shooting him point blank - knew he couldn’t be tricked anymore. 

He had to decide for himself.

He thinks about the horror he encountered, the darkness and the devastation.

But then Peter thinks of the moments of happiness, the insistence - the gut feeling that what he was doing - was _right_. 

That even in the midst of darkness, even with the risks and the danger and the horror, there was always the possibility of light. 

_Trust your gut._

Tony’s words ring through his mind once again, his face firmly pressed forward. 

Peter blinks.

Takes a breath. 

And decides. 


End file.
